


Vision

by tifaching



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Dark, Hell Fic, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Rape, Visions
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-20 21:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1526684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's visions didn't stop after Dean killed Azazel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "vision" at my spn_30snapshots table.
> 
> There will be more Dean in hell stories for this prompt table and as they are written I will post them as chapters to keep them neat and in one place.

“He’s still getting the visions, you know,” Alastair whispers as he fondles Dean’s cock. “Sam. We send him home movies of you all the time.”

Dean hangs on the rack, staring straight ahead as the demon presses tightly against his sweat-drenched back. Alastair laughs softly at Dean’s lack of response and kisses his neck before continuing.

“Know what he does when he sees you on your knees; on your back?” Dean begins to shudder under Alastair’s hands, fighting not to pump into the demon’s fist and Alastair snaps his hips against Dean’s ass. “He stores it up in that photographic memory of his and holds it until he’s got some alone time.”

Dean’s mouth opens, but Alastair’s not ready to let him talk yet. His free hand grips Dean’s neck hard enough to constrict his windpipe while the other jerks Dean’s cock harder.

“Then,” Alastair goes on as Dean’s body bucks against him, “he strips down and gets comfy in his bed, or steps into a nice hot shower and jerks himself raw thinking about what he sees you doing down here.”

Dean’s hanging loosely in Alastair’s grasp now, his engorged dick the only part of him not limp from oxygen deprivation, and the demon relaxes his hold a bit. This is much more fun when his victim has a little fight in him.

“Know what his favorite scenario is, Dean? What fantasy he beats his meat to more than any other?” Dean can only manage a gurgled grunt in reply and Alastair’s hand begins to move faster. “Can’t even hazard a guess? It’s you, on your knees, working my cock with those sinful lips while Meg whips you bloody. He’s gotten off to that one more times than I have, I think.”

“You’re lying,” Dean chokes out, fighting the demon’s hand around his throat. “Sam wouldn’t…he hasn’t had a vision since I put a bullet in that yellow-eyed motherfucker.”

Alastair shifts his grip, both hands grasping Dean’s hips tightly enough to bruise. He alters his stance, changes his angle of penetration so he’s slamming into Dean’s prostate. Dean thrashes and writhes against him, his howls mixing with Alastair’s own as they both teeter on the brink. Alastair holds them there, Dean’s pain and need far too delicious to let go of so soon.

“He loves the sight you this way,” he breathes into Dean’s ear. “Screaming in pain, moaning with desire; Sammy can’t decide what turns him on more.” Alastair thrusts viciously into Dean, claws digging all the way down to bone as he moves Dean’s hips in rhythm with his own. “He pictures himself in my place, Dean. Fucking you; putting you on your knees. Hurting you; oh yes.”

“No,” Dean groans. “Liar. He doesn’t…”

“Just imagine Sammy back here instead of me,” Alastair cuts him off. “Those big hands touching you all over, that mouth leaving bite marks on your sensitive spots, that cock fucking you senseless. You _do_ imagine it, don’t you?”

“No!” Dean screams. “Sam…”

With one last brutal thrust Alastair lets go, taking Dean along with him. “Well, there you have it,” he murmurs, running his fingers through the come coating Dean’s belly. “I’d say that’s a wrap, wouldn’t you? Let’s get the vision of you being fucked to orgasm and coming with your little brother’s name on your lips sent out to its audience, shall we? I have a feeling this one is going to be his new favorite.”

“No,” Dean moans; blood and semen burning down his thighs, but Alastair can hear the heartsick doubt in his voice.

_Yes_ , Alastair thinks, still lazily pumping into Dean. Somewhere above, Sam Winchester’s brain is being invaded by its own personal porno flick, starring his gorgeous fuck-toy of a brother. Alastair’s got no idea if Sam is appalled by the visions or welcomes them with a slicked up palm, and he doesn’t really care. As long as he gets to be the one making Dean a bloody, screaming, come covered mess, he’s happy either way. 

Aroused by his thoughts, Alastair begins to thrust harder, but Dean just hangs limply; no fun at all. Alastair pulls out roughly and releases Dean’s restraints, dropping him to his knees. With a thought, Dean’s facing him and Alastair grips his hair, raising Dean’s head until he can see the devastation on that beautiful face.

“Suck me,” he orders, pulling Dean’s head forward, but Dean resists.

“You’re not…” he starts. “Please, don’t…” and Alastair laughs in comprehension.

“If I sent Sam visions every time I used you he’d be so busy jerking off that he’d never get anything else done. And there are things we want our Sammy to be doing, oh yes, there are.”

Dean opens his mouth, but Alastair fills it with his cock before he can get another word out. The demon looks down at his boy in utter satisfaction. No, he’s not going to send this out to Sam, but he’s already planning the scenario for the next vision. It’s going to involve Dean on his knees; that much is for certain. Maybe sucking cock; maybe getting fucked. Maybe both if Alastair can find someone or something he’s willing to share the spotlight with. Alastair sighs with pleasure as he buries himself deeper in the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. Sam may or may not enjoy the visions, but Alastair’s sure as hell enjoying producing them for him.


	2. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even when Dean does manage to escape into his mind, his dreams provide no comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt "dream" at my spn_30snapshots table.

There’s no sleep in hell, no rest, but Dean still manages to dream. It doesn’t happen often, but sometimes his mind escapes from the abuse his body is forced to endure. Alastair always drags him back eventually, but he’s allowed a brief respite to remember everything he’s lost.

This dream is about Sam, as most of them are, but here his brother is almost unrecognizable. He’s driving the Impala (she’s in a good number of Dean’s dreams also), and when he opens the trunk the organized mess that had been Dean’s weapons cache has been transformed into a neat arrangement that reminds Dean of nothing so much as Alastair’s workroom. There’s a woman with him and Dean can’t see her clearly, but she makes his skin crawl. 

The dream shifts to a slightly more upscale hotel than any Dean had ever stayed in with his brother and Sam’s sitting at a desk piled high with books and papers. There’s a knock at the door and Dean wants to scream at his brother not to answer it. Something bad is waiting outside, Dean can feel it and then he can see it. People crowd the hallway and Dean can see black smoke whirling inside all of them. Sam pauses at the door and looks up, like he’s staring right into his brother’s eyes.

“I’m going to let them in, Dean,” he says. “But don’t worry. I can handle a few demons. It won’t be long before I’m coming for you.” 

_No_ , Dean’s muttering as he comes back to awareness with Alastair’s dick sliding between his lips and the pain of the whipping that follows the forbidden word is nothing next to the memory of Sam’s blood stained smile.


End file.
